


Rider

by uschickens



Series: Putting the Pern in Supernatural [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Crossover, Dragons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-05
Updated: 2010-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uschickens/pseuds/uschickens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the last Turns of the first long interval, barely six months after Mary of Telgar gave birth to Samael, her Campbeth rose to mate. Unfortunately, so did Mehetabel's Lilith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rider

In the last Turns of the first long interval, barely six months after Mary of Telgar gave birth to Samael, her Campbeth rose to mate. Unfortunately, so did Mehetabel's Lilith. The queens fought, and the bronzes of the weyr rose to separate them. Afterwards, it was whispered that it was A'zazel's Yedanth, Lilith's mate, who struck the killing blow on Campbeth, raking her stomach open mid-flight. But two dragons died that day, and whispers were lost in the tragedy.

Mary did not outlive her Campbeth by more than an hour, and the healer swore that it was only those two little boys who kept J'nath alive after his Winchesth followed Campbeth _between_. A'zazel and Lilith's rider disappeared before they could be exiled, and it was rumored that Lilith's wounds were too great for her to have survived, even if no dragons keened for her.

J'nath, now John once more, took his boys from the weyr and disappeared into the vast plains west of Igen. He raised them on stories of their mother, of the threat of Thread, of the danger of the weyrs after their dismissal of the treachery of A'zazel and Lilith's rider and refusal to acknowledge the return of Thread. When Dean, his eldest, was sixteen, John allowed him to be Searched to Fort under a false name. He never spoke of Winchesth, but he told his boys that he would not deny them their chance at a dragon, that Pern needed all the honest dragonmen it could get.

In the small hours of the morning, the day after Dean had turned a shining face up to a crowd of strangers to cry, "She says her name is Impalanth!", John made his way into the weyrling cave, and Dean followed him out without question. Impalanth, still tottering on shaky green legs, followed Dean without question. Dean and Impalanth were not discovered missing until well after breakfast, but no one could tell the Weyrleader where they had gone. Even the dragons were silent on this matter, though whether this was out of genuine ignorance or a more subtle draconic reason, no one could say. They did not keen for them, though.

John knew his dragoncraft well, even as it hurt to watch Dean and Impalanth, and the new pair grew quickly and well., even without the backing of a weyr. Samael worshipped the ground his brother walked on, and Impalanth doted on him almost as much as her own rider. Still, a part of Samael hungered for the structure and majesty of the weyrs, even as John promised him that he could present himself to be Searched in his turn, so long as he returned home after.

As Samael got closer and closer to the age of Searching, his fights with John got louder and more bitter. When Samael refused to promise to return, John kept him away from holds where they might cross paths with riders on Search. (For as much as he preached caution and wariness to his boys, John never doubted that both would be Searched and both would Impress.) Finally, almost eighteen Turns after Mary's death, John and Samael had their last, and largest, fight. Samael would not give his word to return, and finally John said, "I will not stand in the way of your dragon, but if you will not return with me, then do not return at all."

Samael, who had already packed his bags and knew that a clutch was hardening on Benden's sands, said, "Then I wish you a long and healthy life, Father," and walked out of their current hold without looking back. He had told Dean of his plans the night before, the two of them curled in the lee side of Impalanth, sheltered from the wind. Dean had said nothing, torn between wanting to see his brother fly (for Dean never doubted as well) and his steadfast obedience to his father.

The next night, Samael huddled over a campfire, missing the warmth of his brother and his brother's dragon, unsure if he could make it to Benden in time. Just before dawn, he woke to the sound of a dragon overhead, and before long, Dean nudged him the back with the toe of his wherhide boot. "Pack up, Sammy. Impalanth says they're likely to be Searching Bitra today, and we've got to move if we want to get you there in time."

They were a week's walk south of Bitra, but Dean and Impalanth had him there with more than enough time for Samael to insinuate himself into the group of herders' boys clamoring for the bronze rider's attention. Dean left before the sun touched the horizon.

Two weeks later, Samael Impressed brown Paloaltoth, and Jessa - who Samael found very pretty as she stood tall and brave on the Hatching Sand - Impressed the tiny queen. S'mael. swiftly rose to the head of his weyrling class, and it was whispered that when Jessa's Mooreth rose, Paloaltoth would try to fly her and might even succeed. S'mael moved into Jessa's quarters the same day he was appointed Wingsecond to Z'chary.

Over two years after S'mael watched his brother wink away _between_ over the hills of Bitra, Paloaltoth woke him to tell him that Impalanth's rider was trying to sneak into his weyr and did S'mael want him to do anything about it? S'mael slid out of the sleeping furs, careful not to wake Jessa, and went to confront his brother, currently pinned next to the weyr's wall between Paloaltoth's head and right wing.

"What?" S'mael said, arms crossed, taking up as much space in the hallway as he could.

Dean smiled, the same roguish grin from S'mael's childhood. "Ah, Sammy, is that any way to greet your brother?"

"It's S'mael these days," he snapped. "And your question would have been much more relevant if it were not well after late watch and if it had come any time in the last three years."

"Well, aren't you well-ranked with your honorific," Dean jibed. "And would your Weyr have let me cross the cavern's edge?"

S'mael knew the answer and made no reply. "What do you want, Dean? Why am I worth remembering now?"

"S'mael?" Jessa's sleepy voice came to him from down the hall. "What's the disturbance?"

S'mael moved to let Jessa slip up next to him, and he curved an arm around her waist, still warm from the furs. "Jessa, this is Dean. Dean, this is Jessa, my weyrmate."

Dean whistled low and soft, enough to make Paloaltoth blink sleepily at him. "The little queen rider all grown up. My lady, I know for a fact my brother does not rank you." He gave a happy little leer at her scant sleeping gown.

Jessa blinked, her face sharpening. "Dean? Dean, your brother Dean?"

Dean grinned. "I see my reputation has preceded me. My lady, I need to borrow your weyrmate for a moment."

S'mael tightened his grip on Jessa. "Whatever you need say, you may say it in front of us both."

Dean's eyes flashed a challenge. "Very well, _S'mael_. Father has not returned home in several days."

S'mael raised an eyebrow.

Dean sighed. "Father has been on a hunting trip, and," he paused, "I have not been able to find him in several days."

S'mael went white around the lips. Dean meant that Impalanth could not hear John, and S'mael could not tell Jessa that his brother was a dragon rider, that his father used to be J'nath, not without a great deal of trouble for them all. "Jessa, will you please excuse us?" he said mechanically.

Dean talked S'mael into accompanying him, "just for a sevenday, Dean; Mooreth is due to rise for the first time very soon, and I cannot be away." They found only traces of their father, but the hides they found showed that, by John's calculation, the first Threadfall of the new Pass was not long off. Dean made S'mael promise to let the Weyrleader know, to convince him however he could, that their old enemy was returning. S'mael embraced his brother and wished him good hunting.

All was quiet in Jessa's weyr when Paloaltoth landed, murmuring weariness and contentment and sly compliments about Dean's little green even as he hurried S'mael off so that he could twine necks with Mooreth. S'mael bathed quickly, eager to find Jessa sleepy and welcoming in their furs. He popped his head back in to check on Paloaltoth one last time, only to find Paloaltoth's eyes whirling yellow with unease and alarm.

 _Something…is not right,_ he said to S'mael. _I cannot find Mooreth, and she does not answer my call._

S'mael ran a comforting hand over Paloaltoth's snout, then turned for the sleeping chamber. The glows were dim, but he could just make out the curve of Jessa's back and hear her light breathing. He slid up next to her, not wanting to startle her awake. The furs were wet.

Jessa did not respond to his first touch, but she rolled over onto her back at his second. S'mael gave a strangled gasp. Someone had slit her stomach open, all the way across, and her shallow breaths would be her last.

"S'mael," she gasped. " _Sam_."

"Sammy!" Dean's voice behind him roused him from his shock. "Sam! Yedanth is on the ridge! A'zazel is here!" Dean and Impalanth hovered right outside Jessa's weyr.

S'mael tore his eys from Jessa for only a moment, but in that moment, she slipped away, and the Weyr erupted into chaos. Mooreth _screamed_ from the far side of the ridge, and the rest of the Weyr's dragons rose to mourn as the young queen leapt _between_ to follow her rider.

Paloaltoth keened and sent worry and concern after S'mael, picking up on Impalanth's – and Dean's – urgency. _Impalath says we follow the ones who did this. She says they have done this before. I do not think,_ he paused. _I do not think it is right that people should do such things, or that dragons should assist them._ Paloaltoth's mental voice was small and unsure, reminding S'mael of how young he still was.

Dean's hand was soft on S'mael's shoulder. "Paloaltoth's right. This is not right. And we, of all on Pern, we are best able to do something about it. I must go very soon. Will you come with us?"

S'mael held Jessa's cold hand in his. "I will need my leathers," he said, almost to himself. Louder, he said, "Paloaltoth, tell the Weyr what has happened here. Make sure Khirseth and Brandith," he named the Weyrleader's and Z'chary's dragons, "are sure in every detail. We must not be hunted as murderers." He looked up and met Dean's gaze, mouth set in a grim line. "We have work to do."


End file.
